


Harder to Hold

by chwangdol



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Cattle Ranch AU, Farmhand Shiro, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Mutual Pining, Thirsty Keith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 20:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15614553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chwangdol/pseuds/chwangdol
Summary: Keith falls in love with Shiro in pieces; first his pecs, then his dick, and finallyhim.AKA the farmhand AU where Shiro comes to work on Keith's family's ranch.





	Harder to Hold

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [arahir](http://arahir.tumblr.com/) for letting me ask some questions about cattle ranches bc I have very little experience with any of this shit.

Doors have been slamming for the past few hours, but it’s the food processor that finally wakes Keith up. Kosmo isn’t curled up at his feet any longer, which means he’s probably slept through a face full of licking and slobber.

His body aches as he stretches out of bed and throws off his shirt to put on one that smells less like smoke and booze. The door to his room is already opened, and Keith wonders if his mom had tried to wake him up when Kosmo failed. His dusty analog clock tells him it’s half past one, which means he’ll be getting an earful as soon as he enters the kitchen.

But his mom’s scowl is absent from the dining table, and he can already see the blanket covered chair’s usual occupant is missing. Which means he’s in for even more of a lecture.

The kitchen still feels full from Antok’s hulking form, a concentrated frown on his face as he adds more basil to the mixture in the food processor.

“Afternoon,” Antok greets him without looking up from his concoction, “Krolia’s not pleased.”

“Figured she wouldn’t be,” Keith admits as he grabs a glass from the cabinet, squeezing in beside Antok to fill it with water, “Is Kolivan doing the rounds with her?”

Antok’s nod is short enough that if Keith wasn’t used to his Uncles’ body language he would have missed it.

“Didn’ have to,” Keith grunts out after chugging his first glass of water, “Coulda joined Mom in the field when I got up.”

“We weren’t sure when that’d be,” Antok tells him and watches him fill another glass before adding, “Some quiche in the fridge if you’d like it.”

Keith grunts in thanks and swings open the fridge to grab the dish. He doesn’t bother moving it to a plate before sticking a fork in to grab a bite.

“Heat it up at least,” Antok says and doesn’t wait for Keith to argue, grabbing the dish from him before he can get another bite on his fork.

Keith slumps down into a chair while watching him microwave it. His head meets his hands when he hears the door swing open, and he ignores the warm dish placed beside him.

He’s finally met with familiar scowl he’d been expecting.

“Nice to see you finally up,” she barks out, stomping over to the sink to fill her water bottle, “You’re lucky your Uncle’s knees aren’t bothering him too bad today.”

His uncle is turned away from the kitchen the moment he tries to step in, “Go shower, Kolivan,” Krolia tells him, “Antok go get him the clean towels from the wash.”

Both men are quick to follow her orders, leaving Keith alone to face his mother’s wrath.

“How late were you out last night?” she asks, bottle coming down hard against the table as she takes the seat across from him.

Keith sighs as he leans back in his chair, looking anywhere but his mother’s face, “It was a one time thing, won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, well, a one-time thing could mean Kolivan in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.”

Keith throws his arms down at his side, “He didn’t have to go out this morning! It would’ve been fine with me joining you midday.”

Krolia rolls her eyes, “Yeah you try telling him that. Not sure what’s harder, telling Kolivan no or waking you up.”

The only reaction she gets from Keith is a grunt as he pulls the quiche closer to him, stuffing his face with the food again.

“Don’t you dare try to ignore this,” Krolia scolds him, “You’re gonna have to learn some responsibility soon, even with help Kolivan’s land is gonna give you a lot more work.”

Keith sighs and puts the fork down, gently to show his mom he’s not trying to put up a fight, “I get it. I’m sorry, okay? It won’t happen again. No more nights out.”

Silence falls between them, the only noises the gentle scraping of Keith’s fork against the dish and the sound of water running in the other room.

Keith is standing up to rinse the dish before Krolia speaks again, “Truck still has a flat. When you getting the fence materials?”

“Already got it,” Keith tells her, “Regris is delivering it sometime today.”

He can feel his mom’s hard stare on his back, “How much extra is that costing?”

Keith begins loading the dishwasher, careful not to put any of the plates down too harsh, knowing his mom would read that as him being moody, “No charge,” he tells her, using the clanks of the silverware falling into the baskets to cover her scoff.

She notices, because of course she does.

“I’m not judging,” she assures him, “Just wish you could find someone who gives you a little more than free delivery.”

Keith shoots her a glare, and she immediately rephrases.

“Emotionally, I mean,” she stands and gives his shoulders a gentle squeeze, “I know you get lonely, especially without school and with Thace visiting less.”

The _“after he died,”_ goes unsaid. It still isn’t something they talk about. They both prefer to bottle up their emotions, let them out through actions rather than words.

She lets out a long sigh as she leans against the counter, “Change the tire. The bus is out of service for another month now, so you’ll have to drive up to Roswell to pick up our new guy.”

Keith suppresses a groan, “Why me?”

He can feel his mother’s glare, “Cause you seem to like staying out late just fine. And any other day I’d have to be begging to use ‘your’ truck.”

Keith grunts in response and defeat.

\--

Any other day he’d be glad to be working on his truck, cleaning her up and listening to Antok’s old cassettes in the garage, but today the collection of 80s new wave is making him feel things he doesn’t want to feel.

Making him wish he could’ve been more like Antok, growing up in a city. He would’ve hated the crowds, but would’ve loved his expanded options.

If things had been different, if the fire hadn’t taken his dad’s life, maybe Keith would be at college right now. Maybe he’d be studying aviation like Lance, who was lucky enough to have so many siblings their family’s dairy farm could run just fine without him.

He’d been at the bar last night, humbling the dusty farm town with his presence. It’d been story after story about parties and girls and all the friends he had.

Keith could’ve handled it if it was just him, but the Griffen kid had to be there too, bragging how he’d been accepted into some bullshit University to study business so he could take over his family’s horse ranch.

Keith needed _something_ to stop him from tossing a bottle at the brat’s head, and that something came in the form of harder alcohol and more attention from Regris than he usually allowed.

He’s proud of himself for having the strength to make it home.

Or did Regris drive him? He honestly can’t remember, but his bike was in the garage when he came down to work on the truck, so either last night he added another “lucky to be alive” experience to his belt, or Regris had managed to get the bike in his truck.

He doesn’t like either idea. One means his self-destruction is worse than he thought and the other means he owes Regris. Accepting favors for the sake of favors means there’s something more to their exchange. Something more than quick romps and blowjobs in exchange for his too-big truck and various trailer attachments, not that the sex wasn’t a two-way thing.

He’s just finished replacing the tire when he sees Regris’s truck approaching, dust blowing up around it as he drives up the path to Keith.

Keith dodges a kiss when Regris hops out to greet him, walking around him to start unloading.

“Need help loading em up into yours?” Regris asks, already helping him unload the material into the garage.

“Nah,” he grunts out, “Have to take her up to Roswell to pick up the guy we hired.”

“Bus still out?” Regris asks, and Keith nods before looking up to notice Regris has stopped helping in favor to watch him.

Keith drops the piece of wood he was carrying before meeting his gaze with his arms crossed, “What?”

Regris’s mouth drops open and then closes again, looking like one of the frogs Keith used to catch when he was younger, “I… Just,” he shoves his hands in his jeans pockets, looking away to not meet Keith’s eyes any longer, “You haven’t showered.”

Keith scoffs at his comment, “Woke up late. And not like I have to smell nice out here.”

Regris’s face scrunches up, contorts in that way it does when he’s thinking too hard, usually reserved for trying to do math in his head, “No, I mean…” he trails off again, moving to lean against his truck, closer to Keith, “I wish you would’ve stayed,” he coughs as if that’ll make his confession easier, “Last night, I mean.”

Keith breathes out a deep sigh, “Regris, please don’t.”

Regris slides further down the truck’s side, head slumped over, “I just want more than this, Keith,” he admits.

Keith ignores his confession in favor of continuing to work.

“If you’re not ready for a relationship, I won’t pressure you, but I can’t keep on like this Keith.”

Keith throws down the roll of wire he was carrying just a little too forcefully, “I’m not ready,” he spits out, “So, how much is the delivery, or whatever?”

When he looks up Regris is looking at him in shock, “I dont,” he stands and steps away from the truck, moving to face Keith, “I’m not giving you free delivery because you’re sleeping with me, Keith!”

He looks more hurt than Keith has ever seen him, more hurt than when he cut his arm open helping Keith clean out the shed, and Kolivan insisted no hospital was needed, and that he could be right over to stitch him up. Antok saved the day by finally sneaking Regris some painkillers that Kolivan had deemed useless, and Regris made it through with a scar just a little more raised than it should be and a healthy fear of Kolivan.

All Keith manages in response is a quiet, dumb, “oh.”

“I help you out because you’re my friend, Keith. Because our families were friends. The sex is because I like you,” Regris takes a deep breath, “And I thought you liked me back.”

Keith stammers to come up with a response, but again his words come out quiet and dumb, “I’m sorry.”

And he really is; he’s never wanted so desperately to convince himself he's ready for a relationship, that he's ready to let someone in like that. No matter how hard he tries he can't convince himself that it could work.

He wonders if other people enter relationships with hope of one day falling in love with that person, or if it's like the movies show and they just _know_.

He wonders if it has something to do with his past, maybe it's his trust issues that stop him from allowing himself to get too close or maybe it's the loss of his dad, Ulaz, and Thace. If he was a city kid he'd probably have a fancy therapist to tell him. Instead he just has to wonder.

Regris is trying his best to look less pained when he comes over and grabs him gently by his upper arms, giving him a small smile, “It’s,” he begins, then trails off, massaging Keith’s arms until Keith reaches up to grab his wrists to give them a comforting squeeze, “I was dumb, too, Keith. It’s not just your fault. I should’ve seen you didn’t feel the same way.”

Keith isn’t sure what to say so instead he envelops Regris in a hug, “I’m really sorry, Reg, I really am.”

He feels Regris relax into his arms, “It’s okay. This doesn’t have to make things awkward.”

Keith nods against him before pulling back a bit so he can look him in the eyes, “I still want to be your friend, Reg.”

He’s happy to see a smile on Regris’s face again, “Yeah,” he sighs out, “Me too,” when he pushes Keith away it’s gentle and his hands linger, “I’ll, um, help you finish unloading then.”

Keith nods and they begin to work in silence.

He suppresses the guilt he feels until Regris’s truck is out of view, and then his foot connects with the wall accompanied by a long groan.

The afternoon passes fairly quickly, and Keith was able to work out the rest of his anger cleaning the garage and his truck.

With a cargo net in and the passenger seat emptied, he’s ready to lug their new guy back to the ranch, with enough time to spare for a long ass shower he can spend self-pitying and moping.

\--

The hot water is a welcome retreat, and he stays until Antok is banging on the bathroom door and yelling, “Save some hot water for Kolivan! He needs it for his joints!”

Which is immediately followed by a yell of, “Leave the boy alone! Hot water don’t do a damn thing!”

He hops out despite Kolivan’s protests, throwing on some clean(er) jeans and a new shirt.

He passes his mom in the living room on the way out, curled up with Kosmo and shoving her face with the night’s leftovers while watching one of the X-Files DVDs Thace brought from a thrift store in the city. He gives her a quick wave, and she responds with a small nod and a grunt through a mouthful of food.

Next stop is the kitchen to grab all the info about their new farmhand, scribbled on sheets of scrap paper. A name is scrawled out in his mom’s choppy hand-writing.

_Takashi Shirogane_.

**Author's Note:**

> Was gonna post this all at once, but I need validation in the form of comments; it's been so long since I last posted something. Feel free to point out any dumb grammar or spelling mistakes I missed bc having a beta is too complicated and I'm posting this two shots in and after staying up all night. 
> 
> Come talk to me on Twitter: [babypeche](https://twitter.com/babypeche)
> 
> Or Tumblr: [babypeche](https://babypeche.tumblr.com/)


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